The Not Exactly Complete Works of Peter Schulman

Circumstantial Evidence

Chapter 6

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

“Will the Defendant please rise.”

Alfred Boxer stood alongside Priscilla Caldwell. He wore a charcoal suit that must have cost my weekly gross income, maybe more. It fit perfectly despite the fact that he was packing twenty more pounds into it than was optimal for his age.

Priscilla wore a simple black dress that showed a waist and a figure that would have done a thirty-year-old proud, let alone a sixty-two-year-old woman. She had great legs.

Despite looking simple, the dress probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Given how sensible I am, though I have heard others whisper the word “cheap“ and even more derisive epithets, it could be said of a lot of dresses.

The pearls and the jewelry were another matter entirely. They were likely worth more than my corporate headquarters.

“What say you?” Judge Minor asked the jury foreman.

We are awfully pretentious in the court business. We start Supreme Court sessions with, “Oyez, Oyez,” and some judges introduce verdicts with, “What say you?” At least we don’t drink our tea with a pinkie raised.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, we find the Defendant guilty,” said the Foreman.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen of the jury for your service in this case,” said the Judge.

I’m sure Alfred Boxer was not feeling thankful.

“Sentencing will be two weeks from today.”

Jamie was in the hall. “You got your bonus.”

I talked about that a lot, the bonus. You get paid for doing your job and you always have the satisfaction of winning. But to get justice for someone, even if they are no longer around to appreciate it, was a bonus.

“Yes. It’s been a lot of work, but I've finally put the Prentice Caldwell case to bed.”